Off Beat
by mirage of darkness
Summary: Demyx's pre-game story.


Demyx's pre-game name is "Emyd Rockford".

I had special help writing this with a good friend of mine who'll remain known as 'Hammermill108'. Thanks for all your help!

All characters, except those created by Square Enix and Tetsuya Nomura, are copywrited via myself and Hammermill108.

**Prologue; Mrs. Rockford**

For as long as Mrs. Rockford could remember, her son Emyd and Falton O'Connor had been best friends; their happen stance meeting in elementary was more than fate intervening when Emyd lent out a helping hand to the shy and elusive Falton, sealing the friendship right then and there. From that day forward you never saw one without the other, and at times she swore the two were attached at the hips.

But, in truth, Mrs. Rockford thought, Emyd and Falton couldn't have been more different. Emyd, with his blond hair, blue eyes and lean build, was the easier going of the two. Always polite and at rare times rambunctious, Emyd could be anyone's best mate. His energetic personality was most addicting, and being the way he was, his inclusion of everyone made him loved by almost every person he knew.

But Falton, she noted, Falton had a tune of his own. His green eyes and jet black hair not only stood out against Emyd's light complexion, but it made him appear pale and sometimes sickly. His tall and skinny physique didn't help him hide behind his silent and reclusive ways, which usually let Emyd take center stage. Probably figuring that 'Em' was loud enough for the both of them, he often shrank back, observing and looking uninterested in anything anyone had to say.

She had to conclude that nothing but that old saying, "Opposites attract", had to be correct. And besides, she knew Emyd was too empathetic to go off and leave Falton to be excluded like he used to be. She sighed and continued to wash the dishes, watching them out the window hook up their amp to the extender in the garage.

Soon, the third member of their band would come and the house would be filled with "melodious screeching", as she liked to call it. She looked at the clock and wiped off her hands. Three hungry boys after practice would need something to eat and she should start sooner rather than later, especially after remembering what happened the last time.

And so, she began.

**Chapter 1; Falton O'Connor **

Falton wasn't too excited. Maybe this band thing wasn't going to work out, and besides, they only had one singer and no bass. Emyd never planned ahead, at least not this time.

Falton wandered around aimlessly, tossing his drumsticks into the air and catching them again. The more he thought about it, the more restless he became. He supposed it could work, but only if they could agree to some changes, like making their lead add some background vocals to his songs, for a start. He scoffed even at his own idea; there was no way that would even be open for discussion.

Falton pushed his long, dark hair out of his eyes and looked over at Emyd plucking the strings to his guitar. Emyd lived, breathed and drank music; it was the only thing he ever wanted to do with his life. Falton still remembered the day Emyd had declared his ambition of having his own band at the age of seven; it didn't matter that he didn't know a note of music.

Chuckling to himself, Falton walked toward the edge of the lengthy, weed eaten driveway and stared down the street. It was a perfect day. The sky was unusually blue and there wasn't a cloud to be seen. Apart from it being the middle of August, the temperature was bearable and a slight breeze had begun to drift in. "When is Kale going to get here?" He moaned, referring to their singer.

Emyd shrugged and smiled. "Well, knowing him, probably not anytime soon. We'll give him a couple more minutes."

Falton rolled his eyes. Kale was always getting more time; he loved testing the waters of his limits, seeing just how far he could go. Falton walked back up the driveway and fiddled with his drumsticks again, seemingly void of inner thoughts and conflicts. He looked down at his wrist watch and tapped the plastic covering to get the hands moving again. ("Mph.") Looking up and evaluating carefully he excused himself quietly, knowing Emyd wouldn't notice as long as he tinkered with his guitar.

Grabbing the rust stained screen door, he walked into the cheerful, polka-dotted, robin-egg blue kitchen where Mrs. Rockford was preparing what looked like cheese sandwiches. In the shortest of terms, he couldn't help but smile. His own kitchen was covered in mismatching wallpaper, yellowed stains, and always smelling oddly of eggs. The Rockford's had a very different take on decorating than his own family for everything matched and complemented an elemental color scheme. He looked over at Mrs. Rockford who quietly ignored him and grabbed some mustard from the fridge; she was humming something that faintly sounded like, 'Unchained Melodies', her favorite song. He had often wondered how she had maintained her happy-go-lucky attitude twenty four hours a day, despite the fact that her husband had walked out on her.

He silently pondered and grabbed a plastic cup that had his name written on it in magic marker from one of the oak cabinets. He then found the glass pitcher and poured himself some of the icy water, taking it in slowly, while savoring the coldness on his lips.

Unfortunately, the day couldn't continue as it had; peace was ever returning to chaos and commotion. Falton hurriedly launched himself over the railing of the cement patio, hitting the hard, brown earth as he landed. He had heard the distinct screeching of tires, along with the ever present arguing that followed, marking Kale's arrival. Reaching Emyd, right where Falton had left him, he turned to see a disgruntled and peevish Kale walking up the driveway. He was flipping the bird, while cursing under his breath, no doubt meant for his step-mother.

Kale was lean and of decent height; slightly taller than Emyd, and a great deal shorter than Falton. His mid-length, blonde hair reached the nape of his neck and slanted diagonally, making one side longer than the other. He was attractive, dexterous, and poised. Most surprisingly, to Falton, he excelled in almost everything at school; a trait no one could really figure out how he had attained. Ideally, he was the sort of person everyone loved to hate.

Falton contracted the muscles in his face. For once he was almost on time, Falton thought coldly as he folded his arms, waiting as Kale strode up the driveway who was swiping at his bangs in an aggravated sort of way.

As Kale entered the garage, he nodded his head with an ostentatious attitude making it discernibly clear that he was addressing Emyd, and not Falton. He dropped his heavy, black bag that carried his mic and cords, only to bend down and unzip it irritably.

"Honestly," he started, "the woman eats bon-bons all day. It won't kill her to drive her god damn kid to a practice."

Falton raised an eyebrow and was half tempted to kick Kale in the face. However, knowing the repercussions would be anything but disastrous, he quickly decided against it and changed tactics. He merely sighed and emitted a rather gutsy response. "You aren't her kid."

Emyd looked over and smiled slightly; he would never approve aloud, but Falton received the support all the same.

Kale shot him a quick glance, eyes narrowed with annoyance. Falton could only shrug accordingly. His prior experience with Kale had only furthered his assumptions that he was moody, sarcastic and cocky all of the time; unwilling to change for family or friend.

The usual silence filled the garage, coupled with tension and discomfort.

Kale's pride wouldn't let Falton's comment stand for long—his defiant nature wouldn't allow for another to out-do himself. His lips parted and a grumpy tone was emitted, bridled with animosity. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say _Falton_." The obviousness of lacking interest hung in the air.

Kale wouldn't loose his potency that quickly, Falton knew. He could seemingly let things go and dismiss the problem when the occasion called for it, only to bring them back up a week later when his fist hit your face. He held onto things with such callousness that it seemed almost inhuman and impractical to anyone else.

Kale swatted at his bleached bangs, mumbling as he continued to set up the rest of his equipment. His mood didn't improve the rest of the day.

School had started again causing the usual bustle of activity to multiply. Days got longer, sending schedules to follow; flights and fantasies were left forgotten and personal interests seemed almost nonexistent. Still, day after day, the group came together and managed to practice, despite the demands for time.

August turned slowly to September, rolling the weather in and out of summer, giving the beginning of fall a warm welcome. This particular morning however, was cold and wet, sprinkling on and off quite unlike its predecessor.

Falton stared out the window of the second floor Language Class, uninterested in consonants and vowels and what their purpose served in referring to the alphabet. He glanced up at the clock, methodically sighing as the hour hand struck twelve, and promptly set his head back down on the desk.

Emyd was scrolling notes down on his lined paper, nodding and raising his hand on occasion, making the teacher smile for the first time in hours. Kale looked positively bored as he drew hangmen nooses and anarchy symbols across his binder.

Boredom was the only thing he and Kale would ever have in common, Falton thought to himself turning his head to look out the window again. It was still drizzling and the minute hand clinked by, silently ticking to itself.

Falton set down his lunch tray and climbed into the seat next to Emyd. The concrete bench was cold, hard and rather uneven, causing one's bottom to numb over almost instantly. Still, for one reason or another, they chose this table above all others, refusing to move for

anything or anyone; Falton often mused that it was their consistent way of marking their territory.

Emyd unconscientiously picked through his salad, peeling out the cucumbers while handing them to Falton, who would in turn, add them to his sandwich.

Kale wouldn't be present for at least another half hour seeing as he couldn't be bothered with Emyd or Falton until his usual roundabout was finished. He would jostle around with the upperclassmen, check in with his teachers and then join in only to talk about band practice, girls and the like.

It was routine.

That's why Falton raised an eyebrow, while looking as though he had been slapped, when Kale strutted over ten minutes earlier than usual with a smile on his face. His backpack was slung over one shoulder while his tie was wrapped loosely around the collar of his white shirt. He sat down casually, nonplus about the reaction he had created across Falton's face.

"What're you so happy about?" Emyd asked before taking a drink from his juice carton; unlike his best friend, he had maintained his composure.

"I finally found our bass player," Kale said with a smirk. "I'm taking this apple," he added to Falton who was sipping at his milk, unable to refute.

Emyd's blue eyes brightened immediately, all thoughts of food erased. "Really?" he asked, practically choking on the juice he had just swallowed. "No bluff? Someone wants to join?"

Kale laughed with impending judgment. "Sure," he replied taking a bite out of the firm yellow apple. "She'll come by later today, before practice."

"_She?_" Falton blurted, forgetting that he too had liquid in his mouth.

"Yeah, O'Connor, _she_. She goes to the sister school across town and is _amazing_ at bass. I don't know why I didn't think of her sooner."

Falton shot a warning glance over at Emyd. The girls and boys from the academies weren't supposed to affiliate with one another unless they had school consent; plays and co-ed sports were really the only activities allowed. However, Kale as usual, seemed to be above the rules and visited often. It was also a well known fact, by faculty member and student alike, that Kale was no longer a virgin and that his father had paid a pretty penny to get a particular girl out of trouble; Falton wondered if the new girl and the older girl were one and the same.

Emyd merely stared at Kale, seemingly unmoved, but skeptical. He had a calm demeanor, silently thinking of the consequences and out weighing them with the rewards.

Falton silently had conniption fits.

The three sat invariably quiet for several minutes, none willing to speak first. The only sound alongside the continuous buzzing in Falton's head was the crisp crunching of Kale's hungry smacking. He rubbed at his temples and shook his head before breaking through the muted stillness with a heavy sigh, expressing his irritation. "Are you crazy?" he asked, tapping at his own head. "Running a fever perhaps? If you've _forgotten_, we could get in _serious _troublefor this, should we get caught."

"Then let's not get caught," Kale replied simply, sounding as though it were the most obvious thing to do. "Besides, we're _only_ practicing—harmless, right?" He added a wink.

"But Kale," Emyd protested, he too finally finding his voice, "three boys and one girl doesn't look too good. No one will believe us if—"

"Oh, honestly. It'll be _fine. _Just meet up at your house, like usual. Here O'Connor," Kale said while throwing the apple core back at Falton. "See you later!"

And with that, he left the two of them dazed and utterly speechless; the lunch bell ringing in the distance.

Falton walked to Emyd's house after school, as agreed. He was still in a foul mood due to Kale's blatant lack of concideration and grumbled the whole way. Emyd listened politely, adding his comments and insights whenever he felt it necessary. In whole, he often imparted rationality and maturity to Falton's eccentric and mildly amusing antics at extricating Kale from the picture.

Their shoes squeaked on the damp pavement, occasionally mashing a worm or two in the process, leaving a trail of stagnant brown residue in their place.

The two reached Emyd's front porch in a seemingly better mood than before, laughing and joking about Kale's future, ironically turning out like Oedipus in the Greek play _Oedipus Rex. _

Emyd grabbed the keys from his back pocket and testily jiggled the handle of the door. He kicked the gold plated accent at the bottom while shoving the key in forcefully, slamming his shoulder into the side, assumingly breaking into his house rather than opening it.

Both took off their coats and shoes, before tiptoeing on the beige carpet, across the landing towards the kitchen. Like every other room in the Rockford's home, the front room was decorated with the usual Home and Garden items, including clocks, family portraits, book ends and fancy coasters used only for glass pieces. It was neat and orderly, not a pillow out of place, nor an item askew.

Emyd, reaching the kitchen, grabbed two water bottles from the refrigerator, tossing one to Falton while unscrewing the cap to his own. The two sat, smiling half-heartedly, as the rustic old clock that hung on the wall read three thirteen; a seemingly ironic number considering the circumstances, Falton thought permissively.

He noticed Emyd's silent give away of his nervousness, with the consistent tapping of his fingers and smiled upon recognition. Falton sighed as he slumped up against the Lemon-Chiffon colored wall, drumming his own foot in the air, trying to ignore the divergent ringing of the doorbell coming from across the room. He looked at Emyd, who raised his eyebrows and gave a shrug, insuring Falton that he would take his side if an argument arose.

Quickly walking toward the entry, Emyd opened the door, sunlight and rain flooding in, only to reveal a smiling and rather audacious looking Kale, mic and cords in hand, and the newest band member at his side. He had changed from his school clothes into more stylish and self-extravagent pieces of attire, making Falton and Emyd look next to second class.

The girl on his left was nothing to snuff at either.

At first look, she might've looked like any other girl; she was tall with a fine build and a rather curvacious figure that accented her small hands and beautifully pointed face. Her caramel brown eyes and perfect ball-tipped nose only complimented her features, making her look rather innocent and care-free, save for the fact in which the manner she was dressed. But, after first glances and the effective shock-value wore off, it was obvious that she wasn't like any of the other girls Kale had chosen to affiliate with before.

She sported a short, dyed blue haircut, a tight black tee that cut off at her midriff, and a plaid skirt emblazoned with a pink skull and crossbones. Her stance was that of a vivacious teenager—sassy when she needed to be and a real hard-ass when someone pushed her too far. She chewed rather loudly on a piece of watermelon flavored gum and popped it simultaniously while taking in the dim-lighted room and its two occupants.

Emyd found his manners first and quickly straightened to introduce himself. "I'm Emyd," he said, holding out his hand. "Emyd Rockford."

The girl smiled and grabbed his hand with a firm grip. "Imogene Card." Her voice was more feminine than Falton had expected it to be, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. He too straightened, though slower than Emyd, and offered his hand in greeting.

"Falton—"

"O'Connor." She said, finishing his reply. She took his hand and smiled at him as well. "Good to meet you." Her grip was rather forceful and before long he quickly realized they were no longer shaking, but staring at one another.

Kale clicked his tongue impatiently, narrowing his eyes at Falton. Releasing Falton's hand, now a lovely coloration of purple and red, Imogene then turned back to face Emyd, putting her hands in the pockets of her skirt. "Nice house," she said while scanning the room, "what does you father do, accounting or something?"

"He was a real estate agent."

"_Was_, huh?" She popped her gum again, nodding her head while a debatable look passed across her face. "My mom's a librarian, so we don't have anything like this, but it's nice. It's one of those new condominiums they keep building everywhere."

"Better than O'Connor here," Kale sneered, "he lives in a shoebox. I suppose it's better than the cardboard mega-dream palace that his family was probably living in before."

Falton clenched his teeth, using everything inside him to not leap on Kale. He bit his tongue until he could taste the distinct salty flavor of blood pool in the divots of his mouth.

But instead of bashing Falton, or even laugh at him, Imogene seemed to perk up at this comment. "Oh, you live in one of those trailers up by North Park, huh?" She said, her gum rolling around in her mouth as she nodded her head, "yeah, I used to live in one of those. My dad kept the trailer when the divorce went through and my mom said he could have it—him and all his whores."

Falton was so surprised at this divulgence of personal history that he could only smile sheepishly. He had no idea what she was going about, but she seemed accepting and likable enough that he didn't ask questions.

This, however, was not the reaction Kale had hoped for because his lips became pursed and he became moody and sullen, like his usual self, once again.

"So," Emyd said hurriedly cutting in before another word could be uttered, "should we go out to the garage? We've got everything you need set up out there."

"Great." Imogene shifted the strap of her bass guitar to her other shoulder and made a loud pop with her gum. "I'd really like to hear what all this fuss is about."


End file.
